The sky glows
A dull yellow
Like a far
Off lamp in
A distant home
At the end
Of a wooded
Lane welcoming me
Darkened trees hang
Like spooky goblins
As the cars
Tires kick up
Dusty ghosts that
Disappear among junipers
Dawns single bonfire
Slowly emerges golden
Like a pocket
Watch drawn from
The woolen clouds
And distant bungalow
Windows wink with
Brief lamp light
As neighbors move
About in them
This is morning
